


Reflections from Oz

by ilostmyshoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyshoe/pseuds/ilostmyshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Safiyabat (http://safiyabat.tumblr.com/) gave me the prompt: Someone notices Sam's mental state. This is the angst that resulted. Of course, Charlie only gets the time to think about Sam once she's in Oz and it's too late to do anything besides worry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections from Oz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Safiyabat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/gifts).



Charlie wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into the flames. The voices of Dorothy and her fellow freedom fighters faded into the background. She’d fan-girled pretty hard when she met them, and they hadn’t responded very well. The Scarecrow had looked confused, the Lion had suffered a minor panic attack, and the Tin Man had glared at her and started sharpening his axe. Dorothy had pulled Charlie aside and suggested that she give them some space so Dorothy could reconnect with them and help them adjust to the idea of a new companion.

That was fine. Charlie could do space and alone time. Sure, it was strange to do alone time without a computer or a book, but she was comfortable being independent. She thought about how Oz was everything she’d wanted it to be and nothing like she’d expected, all at the same time. She thought about Dorothy and wondered if the spark she felt would grow into an actual romance, or if hooking up with her only ally in a strange world might be a bit too risky, even by her standards. And, of course, there was the issue of their time period difference . . . She didn’t care much for the negative direction of that particular train of thought, so she redirected her brain to another subject.

The Winchesters. She wondered how they were doing in their bunker back on Earth. Dean had seemed comfortable–she would almost say “happy” if it wouldn’t jinx it. Sam, though . . . Sam was clearly not doing so well. She worried about him whenever she thought about him, and every time she saw him he seemed to get worse.  She’d long been able to see the fatigue under his forced smiles, but this last time he’d seemed too drained to even pretend to fake it convincingly. She couldn’t believe Dean hadn’t noticed, so maybe he was as clueless as she was about what to do about it. Unless, he _was_ doing something and she just didn’t know about it . . .

Charlie knew she should probably feel bad about avoiding Sam as much as she had. Part of the problem was that Dean was just so much more enjoyable to hang out with. He was smiles and jokes and comfort where Sam was concern and fatigue and worry. Charlie had experienced her own bouts of depression in the past, and she refused to let herself get pulled back into that darker emotional place. She’d put on her happy-go-lucky attitude as a façade the first time she’d taken a new identity–when she came off as happy and shallow strangers rarely pushed for more details about her life. She’d noticed over time, however, that the singing and goofiness actually helped her feel better. She wouldn’t say she used biofeedback as a crutch, exactly, but if it helped it helped, and she’d take snarky comments and fashion montages over angst and depression any day. And if that counted as running away, well, running was good exercise, and she’d had plenty of practice.

She couldn’t imagine what she could do, anyway, that would help Sam feel better. She knew the last thing he’d want would be pity, which made it difficult to imagine even starting a conversation about the problem. She’d sort of tried, albeit awkwardly, with the questions about his room, but she hadn’t had a chance to press the issue, and if she was honest she probably would have let it drop anyway. She got the impression that Sam wasn’t much for physical affection, at least from anyone besides Dean. He’d hugged her a couple of times now, but it had always felt more like something he knew he was supposed to do than like something he wanted. She didn’t think an offer of cuddles was going to help the situation.

Then there was the added layer of awkwardness that came from having read those gorram books. In some ways they made her feel like she really knew Sam, the same way that she knew Hermione and Bilbo and, well, Dorothy. She’d read about his past, his thoughts, his deepest fears, and his greatest regrets. It made it too easy to create head-cannons about what happened in the time between the last book and the present that could bring Sam to his current state. Sure, he’d been a somewhat angsty kid, but he’d always had a fire inside him, anger burning just below the surface. Had it been healthy? Not particularly, but it made him believable and dynamic while advancing the plot. (And how fucked up was she to think about an actual human being as a plot device?) Now something had extinguished Sam’s fire. He didn’t seem interested in much of anything, too dulled and tired to even get angry, let alone happy or excited. She wondered if Sam’s earlier self, his self from before Hell, would be relieved that he’d finally escaped his anger, or just disgusted that he had let himself sink so low.

But Sam wasn’t just a character; he was a person. It wasn’t appropriate to coolly analyze his mental state looking for symbolism. And, on the other extreme, it wasn’t acceptable or helpful to pretend that the artificial intimacy of reading about his life went both ways. There was no reason for him to think that he could or should share his inner thoughts with her. Frak. She didn’t want to woobify him; she just wanted to be able to help, but she didn’t know _how_. And now she had missed her chance and Sam was worlds away. Maybe she could talk to Dean about it when–if–she got back. He seemed the most likely to be able to help Sam connect with the world again. In the meantime, all she could do was try to sleep and pray that the Winchesters got one more miracle.


End file.
